It was the morning after and fear clung to her like sweat on skin.

‘Let’s spend the night in a haunted hotel...’ seemed a good idea. Fun. Harmless.

Wine.

Invoking silly chants over an Ouija board.

Laughing at jump-scares.

More wine.

At some point, the candles flickered. The wind? These old places were draughty.

At midnight the floorboards creaked. They giggled, emboldened by the wine.

Sound of scratching against the wall. Not against. Inside? Rats, no doubt.

Then nothing.

She woke in the bed at dawn. Alone. Memories gone. Just like he was.

Fear the only thing that lingered.